


Joyeux Anniversaire, Your Present is an Englishman

by Kitsune_no_Tora



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Anal Play, Blindfolds, Bondage, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-04
Updated: 2012-06-04
Packaged: 2017-11-06 21:49:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/423632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsune_no_Tora/pseuds/Kitsune_no_Tora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's France's birthday, and Prussia and Spain want to get him something special.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Joyeux Anniversaire, Your Present is an Englishman

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posting of older work from FFN due to the recent crackdown. Originally posted on the LJ Hetalia kink meme. Link to request and first part of fill: hetalia-kink . livejournal 16221 . html? thread=44703581#t44703581 Second part of fill: hetalia-kink . livejournal 17465 . html? thread=56320313#t56320313 (take out the spaces!)
> 
> This is also my first try posting anything on this site, so forgive me if I've done something wrong...

.~.~.~.~.

The day was beautiful, England noted with great pleasure as he relaxed in his garden, a cup of tea and a book in hand. He sighed in contentment, relaxing back in his chair and taking a sip of his tea, eyes drawn to the flowerbed where the fae were flitting about, giggling and darting between the leafy greens and bright flowerbuds. Every now and then a little pixie with bright green eyes and flaming red hair would come to his seat, adding to the ever-growing pile of small flowers and weeds on the table by his teacup. He smiled as she darted past, zooming around his head with the hum of her wings, dropping petals on him and giggling as she flew by.

It was an endearing scene of peace and contentment—a scene England didn't get to enjoy enough anymore—and it was nice to take the time and relax, to just let the world dissolve to only him and the fae in his garden, giggling and playing and enjoying the sunshine.

As to be expected, the world would have none of that. Both the fae and England jumped a little when they heard the doorbell ring from inside, shattering the feeling of the world closing in to just them, enjoying a nice July day. England's previously joyful expression automatically curled into a frown, large eyebrows cinching together in irritation. He stood up and brushed his presents from the fae off, grumbling under his breath as he went to answer the door.

It was probably America, he decided as he cut through the living room to head for the front door, where the doorbell was being incessantly and irritatingly rung. The git had been trying to call him ever since the first week of July, first trying to get him to go to his… _party_ —England forced himself to call it just a party, it was nothing more than that, just an excuse to be loud and boisterous and obnoxious like America was prone to be—and then trying frantically to find out why he had not arrived. As if the reason wasn't obvious…

Well, he was going to give that prat a well-deserved what-for. America knew why he avoided seeing him this time of year, he just liked being obnoxious. Sure, it was already mid-July, but England would see him when he was ready, dammit!

"All right, I'm here, stop ringing that bloody doorbell!" England shouted as he neared the door, sighing in relief when the ringing stopped. Grumbling when he fumbled with the deadbolt, he flung open the door, mouth open to give America a good scolding.

Only, it wasn't America at his doorstep.

"Hey, England! Why haven't you been answering my awesome phone calls?" England narrowed his eyes at the (ex) nation for a moment in irritation before he realized that he had been asked a question.

"What are you doing here, Prussia?" He asked, deciding answering his question was pointless. He didn't have an answer he wouldn't laugh at, anyway.

Prussia's cocksure grin was full force today, red eyes gleaming mischievously. He leaned against the doorframe, his entire posture screaming arrogance. "What, can't I grace you with my awesome presence every now and again, Mr. Stuffy Pants?" England twitched at the nickname, giving Prussia a good hard glare, hand gripping the wooden door with more strength than was strictly necessary in preparation to slam it in the cocky albino's face. Prussia didn't seem to notice. "Besides, no one has been able to get a hold of you the past two weeks, you should be glad the awesome me came all this way to see if you were still alive and to extend my invitation personally!"

"Well, as I'm sure you can see I am very much alive," England muttered, rubbing his forehead in exasperation. Only a minute into their conversation and already Prussia was giving him a headache. So much for such a pleasant day…

"Good thing!" Prussia smacked a hand on his shoulder, holding him in place. "I wanted to know if you wanted to go out drinking with us for France's birthday tonight!"

England stiffened, back going straight as that information sunk in. France's birthday? It was  _today_? How could it be the fourteenth already? His mind automatically flew to the calendar in his office; he had not at all noticed that the days had gone by that fast. Had he really been that far gone to have been out of it for ten days already?

 _Shit_ , he groaned internally. He wasn't prepared at all. While he loathed the idea of getting France anything, he always did ever since their Entente. Mostly because when he didn't, France would whine and whine and then demand  _something else_  as his present, and England had thus far been resistant to the idea of giving him such a thing. Unless he was really drunk…but that was a different story.

"…Tonight?" England said despairingly, inwardly panicking. He didn't have any time to throw something together in that kind of time…

"Yeah, tonight! You didn't forget, did you?"

"No!" He denied automatically, biting his cheek at the haughtily disbelieving look Prussia sent his way. He sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. "Okay, yes, I had forgotten…"

Prussia's shit-eating grin grew, much to England's dismay. "Aww man, that's too bad. You'll still come though, right? It doesn't really matter that you didn't get him a present, because it would have been completely ignored over the awesomeness that is the present Spain and I got for him, anyway."

England's eyebrow twitched at Prussia's over-exuberant boasting, but couldn't help but ask. Maybe it would give him some last-minute ideas… "What did you get him, dare I ask?"

Prussia smirked. "You."

And then the world went black.

.~.~.~.~.

The first thing England thought when he woke up, naked and bound on his knees with his ass in the air, what felt like a cloth gag with the knot shoved in his mouth tied around his head, and a blindfold covering his eyes was that he was going to kill both Spain and Prussia—as slowly and as painfully as possible. He really hadn't been expecting Spain to suddenly come up from behind him, and had been suspecting that he would knock him out even less. They had double-teamed him and he had been none the wiser…until he had woken up to snickering as the door closed with a resounding click.

He growled in frustration, pulling at his bonds, but they held tight. He had a troubling sneaking suspicion that it was ribbon, too—it crinkled whenever he moved, rather than jingle like chains would have.

At least the wankers had the foresight to put cuffs padded with cloth on his limbs before binding him, he didn't really like the idea of coming out of this with his wrists and ankles rubbed raw and red.

He moved again, this time seeing if he could angle himself to pull his legs into a different position, when he realized there was something else particularly disturbing about his predicament.

Great. They'd shoved something up his ass. Fucking perverted louts… they were going to get it for this.

Unfortunately, after struggling for a few more minutes, he realized that he really wasn't going to get out of this until someone found him and released him.

_Bugger… I'm fucked now, aren't I?_

.~.~.~.~.

_hey, franny! sory 2 tell u this, but something came up, so the awesome me and spanien can't come out drinking wit u 2nite. something aboit west and little italy not sure. i think süd-italien saw them doing seomthing and got pissed or whatever. anyway we left u ur aewesome present in ur room, so enjoy, man! you'll be thanking us 4 years, trust the aesome me._

France stared blankly at his phone, re-reading the text he had just received as he was waiting outside a charming little café near his Parisian home for his lunch. Prussia and Spain were bailing on him? How cruel! He frowned; expression drooping as he quickly started typing out a response.

_But Prusse, it's my birthday! What could have little Italie du Sud have done to prevent you and Espagne from coming out and celebrating with me? Surely Allemagne can handle him himself?_

The response was short and prompt:

_we can go out 2morrow if ur up for it. england might come 2. but im srs about the present thing, go home and have fun_

France closed his phone with a resigned sigh, shooting a small flirty smile at the waitress as she set down his meal. Well, that was disappointing. It was his birthday, and no one was going to go out and celebrate with him! How could he,  _France_ , possibly spend such an occasion at home,  _alone_? That was something stuffy England or China or Japan did, certainly not him.

He sighed again, picking despondently at his food. He'd just have to celebrate by himself, then. No sense in wasting a perfect night of partying just because his friends couldn't make it… he'd had worse birthdays, anyway.

Although he was curious about his present, Prussia seemed rather insistent he go see it… well, there was no harm in going home and checking things out before going out for the night.

.~.~.~.~.

"Hmm? What is this?" France mumbled to himself, plucking off the folded note taped to his bedroom door, his name scrawled on the front in scratchy, looping script. Attached to the note was an envelope, bulging with something large and round. He turned it over, letting the contents slide into his hand.

"…A remote?" France examined it curiously—it was small, round, and blue; just big enough to fit in his palm, with one lone button to be pressed. He flipped open the note, hoping for some sort of explanation.

 _Press button for present upon entering_ , it said, and there was a little doodle of what looked like a tomato and a heart at the end. France smiled lightly to himself; Spain must have been the one to write it. He glanced up at his closed door, remote heavy in his hand, wondering what could possibly be inside. Well, there was only one way to find out…

He pulled open the door, pressing the button as he went, and he swore his heart stopped.

England was tied to his bed, his ass pulled into the air so he could see every inch of it, from his smooth round cheeks to his dusky red hole, puckered around something blue. He was treated to the sight of the way his spine contorted and arched as he cried out, muffled by the gag (oh my, was that ribbon he was tied with?) in his mouth, the way his toes curled and the muscles in his arms and back tensed and bulged, and he could just catch a quiet buzzing noise.

 _Oh_ , he realized as a predatory grin plastered itself on his face, watching as England writhed on the bed,  _that was what the remote was for… what a lovely sight._

England pulled on his bonds, the ribbon crinkling, his muscles twitching as the plug vibrated in his ass, sending pleasant sensations up and down his body. He bit down on the gag in his mouth, trying to muffle the groan threatening to burst forth from his throat. He really hadn't expected something like  _that_  to happen. He knew he was in for it when he heard France muttering to himself outside the door, his heartbeat speeding up (not in anticipation, no, why would he get excited about France… having his way with him?) as the door clicked open, and then  _oh god_  whatever those two had shoved up his ass had started  _vibrating,_  and color burst forth in his darkened vision as he arched up in surprise and pleasure as the sensation coursed through his body like an electric shock.

France was certainly appreciative, though, as he drank in the sight of England thrashing on his bed; the way his balls and cock jumped with the movement, the way it slowly began to swell as the vibrations stroked his insides just right.

" _Mon dieu,_   _Angleterre_ …" England jumped and gasped lightly when France whispered in his ear, having not heard him move, his fingertips just skirting along his back and chest, "what a beautiful sight you are. I take it you are my present,  _non_?"

Goosebumps flitted across his skin as he shivered at the touch, and England honestly tried to grunt to tell him that  _no, I'm not your bloody present you frog, now get away from me,_  but then his hands traced down his body, one teasing a nipple while the other traveled down, dipping in all his sensitive places. The plug was still vibrating away in his ass, making his toes and fingers curl, and when France wrapped his fingers around his rapidly hardening erection and stroked just the way he liked it all coherency flew away in the buzz of sensation.

Because fuck it all, he was getting turned on by this.

He gasped against the gag, clenching his fists, searching for something to hold onto as France jerked his hand  _just right_ , heat licking along his skin and curling around in his gut. The bed dipped and then wetness grazed his shoulder, and he groaned as France kissed and licked and nipped along his back, beard tickling his skin with a slight burn that made him shiver. Long fingers grasped at his buttocks, and even though he couldn't see France through the blindfold, he could well imagine the look he must have had on his face. The very image of a smug but sultry smile, those blue eyes dancing with delight and lust, sent a fresh set of trembles through his body.

He could do nothing, only pull on the ribbon bonds and bite down on the gag, as France's hand left his prick to grasp his other buttock, squeezing and pulling them apart. He felt his face heat up, he knew France was looking at him, scrutinizing him, and while he wasn't ashamed of his body having it put on such a show was disconcerting at best.

"You have a wonderful ass,  _Angleterre_ ," France whispered, wetting a finger in his mouth before tracing it around his puckered hole, the muscles contorting and sucking around the plug, twitching slightly when he touched him.

England trembled as that wet finger traced down the cleft of his ass, then around and up again, France's hands gripping and massaging as he pressed kisses down his lower back, tasting and nipping at his skin.

And then France retracted a hand and brought it back to his ass with a resounding slap, and England yelped, bound hands knocking against the headboard at the impact.

"Whaaf…" England mumbled through the gag, gasping when France did it again. He grit his teeth against the gag, trying not to whimper from the pain.

"Makes a good sound, too," France whispered lowly, smacking it again, and again, and  _damn_  if England liked being spanked by France but  _god_  it felt good, the painpleasurepain sending jolts through his body with every strike, and France  _knew_  he liked it, the bastard. He spanked him over and over, each strike making his swiftly hardened cock bounce against the sheets, and he felt humiliated to be being spanked by France but damn it he _liked it_ ; he couldn't help but love the thrill of losing control, to be tied up with nothing he could do to change his fate.

England was a man of control, over his surroundings and his emotions, but losing it all was a different, equally as potent poison. This wasn't even his idea in the first place, and that just thrilled him more.

France didn't stop until his ass was a nice cherry red, massaging the hurt as if in apology, and England could  _feel_  the sheer satisfaction dripping in his voice as he cooed nothings at him. He moaned softly when France's hands traced down his thighs, his mouth travelling down the bumps of his vertebrae and to his ass, gently nipping and licking as he went. His mouth was hot and wet, but the trail it left was soothing on his burning skin.

Then that traitorously wonderful tongue curled itself between his ass cheeks and licked slowly around his hole, the flat of it swiping along the edge of the smooth plastic plug, and England tensed dangerously in France's grasp.

"You like this, don't you,  _mon ami_? I always knew you were more of a, how you say,  _slut_  than you let on to be," France murmured, smirking slightly as England moaned through the gag when he licked him again, the combined pleasure of the continued vibrations from the plug and the feel of France's tongue  _there_  pushing him closer and closer to the edge. "My dirty little Englishman…"

France sat up, leaning over England and pressing his entire front to his back, breath hot on his ear. He nipped the shell of it lightly, curling a hand around to press to England's stomach. "You will be a good present,  _non_? I want to hear you as I play with you… I want to hear you moan and gasp, I want to hear you beg for more, I want to hear you scream my name… You can do that,  _oui_?"

Taking his breathless moan as agreement, France pulled the knot of the gag out of England's mouth and untied it, wet from his saliva. He could see the wetness on his chin, just glistening in the low light, and the corners of his mouth were red and slightly raw from the fabric.

England licked his lips, his pink tongue darting out to massage the hurt, and that was all the invitation France needed to turn England's head toward him to capture that tongue and swirl it with his own, invading England's mouth with little resistance. England growled low in his throat, hungrily pressing back so their mouths molded together, lips teeth tongue kissing nipping licking; their bodies pressed together completely. Their mouths made obscene sounds as the kiss intensified, heavy and wet and filled with desire.

And when they broke apart, chests heaving for breath, breathing in each other, England murmured, "You're a fucking dirty bastard, you know that? If you really want that, then you'd best hurry up and  _make me_."

France sucked in a breath quietly, tightening his hold on England, and he could feel the effect his words had on France—the way his body tensed up, how he pressed his hardened crotch more closely to his ass, the pressure adding to the already maddening vibrations running through his body. He pressed back against France as best he could; searching for more pressure, anything to relieve the tension, the need to come  _now_  and  _hard_  and dammit France needed to do something now before he lost his mind… the vibrations were wonderful, but maddening because it just wasn't  _enough_ , not enough for him to lose it all.

To his frustration, France seemed to retreat, pulling himself completely away from England. He made a small annoyed sound, wiggling his hips.

"What are you doi—aaahn…" he was cut off by a groan when that tongue returned, swiping again alongside the plug, making him shudder.

"Then you should get ready …" France murmured against his ass, fingers slowly pulling out the still-vibrating plug, tossing it aside. England grimaced, missing the sensation, but then that hot wet tongue was back, licking along his hole, wiggling around and pressing  _inside_  and England gasped, wiggling his hips, twitching when he licked along a particularly sensitive spot.

And then he was gone again, but this time he heard shuffling, and the dip in the bed changed from behind to beside him.

"And I think Prusse and Espagne left us some very creative ways to do that~"

"L-Like what?" England hesitantly asked, dread and curiosity mixing in his tone, sightlessly turning his head in France's direction where he heard the distinct sound of plastic knocking together.

"Oh, things~ Wouldn't it be more fun for you to just find out rather than have me tell you?"

"Not if I want to be properly prepared for whatever the hell your perverted frog brain can come up with…"

"You,  _monsieur_ , have no sense of adventure," France tisked, and England balked, shaking his head.

"I have plenty," he growled, daring France to say anything to the contrary.

France let a smile stretch across his face, knowing he had England where he wanted him. He crooned in appreciation at one of the toys, holding it up for his inspection, glancing between it and England. His expression grew more devious. "Then show me some. If you're that worried about it, you remember our safe word,  _non_?"

England was silent, the muscles in his jaw fluttering as his jaw tensed, teasing his lower lip between his teeth as he seemed to decide whether this was a good idea or not. "…Yes."

"Then let us get started,  _mon petit chouchou_ ," France replied, glee evident in his voice as he found one of the (many) bottles of lubricant scattered among the toys Prussia and Spain had left on the bed. They had really gone out of the way to make sure he was fully prepared…such wonderful friends he had.

Dildos of various sizes and shapes, butt plugs and vibrators that did everything from vibrating to gyrating to thrusting to expanding; an array of prostate massagers, cock rings, ticklers, floggers, more ribbon and actual chains if he decided to move England, a few different whips, more cuffs, spreader bars and tape…and a bottle of (good Spanish) wine on ice sitting on the floor.

Oh yes. Such wonderful friends he had. Next time they went out, he was buying them drinks. Whatever they wanted, it was theirs.

He opened a bottle, squirting some of the lube onto his outstretched hand, which he kept to himself until he felt it had warmed up enough. England's breathing had calmed down somewhat now that he wasn't being stimulated by either him or the plug, but he was still straining against his ribbon bonds—the contour of his back screamed of the tension between his legs, the curve of his spine changing minutely as he shifted, muscles fluttering discreetly under scarred milky white skin.

And France was suddenly struck with the sheer beauty England possessed, as himself and not just because he was tied enticingly to his bed, sightless but listening and feeling his every move, every shift in the bed, eagerly awaiting his touch. The chiseled but soft curve of his body, the shifting of sinew and fat and bone and blood under his touch, warm and slick yet still unyielding, still carrying a strength he knew England possessed, even if he didn't look it. He was magnificent. He was beautiful.

And France had him all to himself, for the whole night.

France was broken out of his reverie when England barked out at him, "Well? Are you just going to sit there? I'm getting blue balls here." France's gaze snapped back to his face, his expression tight from what he could see around the blindfold covering his eyes. He smirked.

"Patience,  _mon cher_ ," he chided, sliding in close so that his breath just tickled him, noticing with satisfaction the goosebumps that rose along England's feverish skin. "We have the whole night to ourselves…" he trailed a slick finger along his back, tracing designs that shimmered in the dim light. "There is no need to rush things."

"France, I swear that if you don't touch me  _right now_ …"

"…You'll what?" he asked, eyes glittering with amusement, fingers trailing down his sides but avoiding all the places England needed him to touch, if only just to spite him for a little while longer. England was far too much fun to rile up.

"I swear to God I am going to strangle you. I  _will_  find a way," England snapped back, wiggling under his touch.

France hummed, the tone high pitched before lowering in a slow crescendo, as if he had just discovered something particularly interesting. "So violent, England, but then again, I already knew you could be particularly brutal in the bedroom…"

"Why you…!"

"It's alright, I'm perfectly fine with that," he answered smoothly, cutting off any retort England might have had by cupping his balls firmly. England gasped in surprise, hissing out a moan when he rolled them in his hand, the slicked one returning to his ass. "But I think that's for another time…."

England could only let out a breathless moan in response, caught up in what France was doing to him; one hand trailing down his ass, just petting, sliding along the sensitive skin of his anus, while the other stroked and lightly squeezed his balls. He rolled his hips in response, and while it was nice, it just wasn't enough. He wanted  _more_. No more of the gentleness; he wanted to be fucked into the mattress, to be  _used_ , to lose his mind in the throes of white-hot heat and sweat and skin and lust, for France to lose it with him.

He was his present, after all. He'd come to enjoy the idea, hell, he even wanted it at this point.

France's fingers swirled around his hole one last time, leaving a slicked trail before he pressed one inside, the digit sliding in smoothly. England let out a breathy moan at finally being penetrated once again, trying to press back into France's hand while still remaining encased by the other. France responded by hooking his finger and slowly pulling out again before pushing it back inside, squeezing his balls ever so lightly. England shivered, his insides undulating around France's finger, making the Frenchman bite his lip as he watched and moved his hand.

He was seductive and beautiful, quivering lightly under his touch, every sound coming from his throat making the blood rush downward. He knew he was taking it slow—probably a little too slow, from the way England was pressing back on him—but he wanted to make sure England was properly prepared before they got to the… well, fun part of the night. England wouldn't last the whole night if he wasn't properly stretched before then, and he really did like his present—it made little sense to break him.

He pressed a second finger inside, spreading them and thrusting them in and out, up and down; gently so as not to hurt England, but rough enough to elicit a reaction, watching with fascination as the muscles in England's back, buttocks, and thighs contracted and relaxed, his toes curling, the ribbon rustling as he pulled on them and gave them slack. Little gasps and half-suppressed moans reached his ears, and he inserted a third finger, and France had to keep his other hand clenched tightly around England's arousal when he felt him tense up like a bow, ready to fall over the proverbial edge as he finger-fucked him  _just right,_  his wicked digits stroking all the right places.

"Fraaaance…" England cried out, stretching the syllable out, his voice hitching slightly into a needy whine. His hips twitched spastically, trying to move, trying to get France to let go.

" _Oui_?" France whispered absentmindedly, curling his fingers just right, drinking in the sight and sound of how it made England gasp and buck in his hands, his plea coming out garbled as white washed across his vision.  _So close…!_

" _Ohgod_ —fuck nggggh…leggooooo~" England panted, burying his burning face into the crook of his elbows, hips twitching, toes curling and twisting the sheets between them as the burning pleasure of the fingers in his ass and the ones around his cock built up, up and up  _and up_  and he couldn't stand it anymore, it was making him dizzy, he couldn't _think,_ couldn't  _breathe_ …

"Only if you say please~" France cooed, grinning at him even if he couldn't see.

It was out before he could even think about it; he was past the point of caring. "Pl—aaaahn, goddammit France…please….!"

And France obliged, releasing his hold and stroking one last time down his length, plunging his fingers into just the right spot as England came; his mouth open in a silent scream as his whole body tensed up hard for a second before his hips twitched spastically as he released hotly into his hand, slumping against his ribbon bonds.

" _Mon dieu, Angleterre_ … _tu es beau_ …" France murmured, kissing up his shoulders as England gasped for breath, coming shakily down from his high. He nibbled lightly at the juncture between his shoulder and neck, stroking up and down his sides with hands he had wiped clean on something nearby. England groaned softly, shivering slightly from the oversensitivity, how his skin seemed to spark wherever he touched.

He turned his head and France quickly captured his lips, sucking the bottom one into his mouth and nibbling on it, and England lost himself in the kiss and the afterglow, the taste of wine and sunshine and the warmth of his body pressed against his. France's hands rubbed along his body, softly touching, tracing down his chest to his stomach and to his hips. He gasped lightly into France's mouth when he swiped a teasing finger along the sensitive skin around his prick, who invaded his with his tongue, deepening the kiss by swiping it along his teeth and tangling with his own.

"Horny bastard…" England whispered into his mouth, sighing when France ran his free hand through his hair, pulling slightly when his fingers caught in between the strands. France chuckled, pulling away.

"That makes two of us, then. I don't see you complaining much."

"Belt up," England hissed back, although he didn't deny it, and the remark held little of the intended malice as he leaned forward to press his forehead against the cool wood of the headboard. It felt good against his flushed and sweaty skin, and he instinctively relaxed himself against it, letting the ribbon hold his weight.

France watched him for a moment—the relaxed slope of his pale shoulders, his knees folded underneath him, face obscured by his arms…

He wanted to see that face, see that pretty little mouth of his open and twitch as he gasped and writhed and hissed as France played with him again and again. Well, Prussia and Spain did give him the tools to do that…

Grabbing the extra ribbon, France tied new strands to the opposite bedposts, being sure to keep them tight enough so England couldn't accidentally roll away, but with enough slack so that he was relatively comfortable. Hearing and feeling France changing things around, England lifted up his head.

"What are you doing—oof!" France suddenly picked him up slightly and forced him to flip over, the ribbons around his legs tangling, forcing him to pull them into the air. "Ow! What the bloody hell, France?"

"Sorry," France apologized quickly, leaning over him to untangle the ribbons before running a hand along his chest. "I just wanted to see that face of yours when I make you scream…" France smiled to himself when he felt England tense up slightly and suck in a breath when he brushed a nipple, touching him with more vigor. He teased it with his fingers, twisting the nub lightly and leaning down to nibble at his collarbone, enjoying the way England wiggled under his touch and his breathing picked up.

Hands ran down his sides, across his hips, and back up again, his mouth following the trail they made, tasting his skin with little nips and light kisses. England bucked his hips lightly, a disgruntled whine escaping his lips when France's mouth finally made it to his hips, kissing and licking and teasing everywhere around where England wanted him most.

He got his wish soon enough when France palmed him, trying to entice him back into hardness, but then a sudden extreme tightness clenched around the base of his cock and scrotum, and England gasped in surprise, jerking his hips away. "W-What are you doing?"

"Decorating you," France replied dryly, smirk evident in his voice. "It's just a cock ring,  _Angleterre._ "

"Nggghn _fuck_ —I noticed! Take it off!" England's voice hitched into a groan as he tried to adjust to the tightness around him, which wasn't helped by France continuing to stroke him, fingers swirling around the tip before sliding along the sensitive skin of the slit.

"No," he replied, moving to cup England's face in his hands, stilling him immediately.  
"You will wear it, and not complain,  _mon petit lapin_. You are my present,  _non_? You will act like it, and do as I have asked… do you understand?"

England couldn't help but shiver at the sharp edge France's low, nearly purring voice had taken on, a potent mix of promise and danger so unlike his normal honeyed tone. It sent a thrill up his spine that spiraled through his nerves all the way to his fingertips. "This mouth," France pressed a finger to his lips when England opened it to say something, silencing him again, "is mine for tonight, and shall not say anything to the contrary."

England swallowed thickly, adam's apple bobbling slightly as his throat worked, a slight blush creeping down his face. He sat still for a moment, breathing lightly erratic, before nodding minutely, silently agreeing.

He'd play along.

Moments later, he felt something pressed up against his entrance, hard, slick, and slightly cold. France pressed it in slowly, and England bit back a hiss at the sensation, arching up—it was so much bigger than his fingers, the plastic pressing against his insides and stretching him open, the odd ribs rubbing along and making him quiver.

It didn't take him long to adjust, though, France cooing calming nothings at him as his hips twitched jerkily until it was seated completely in him. France shifted on the bed, the springs creaking as he sat down between England's legs, and then there was a hiss of air.

England didn't know quite what to make of the noise, though, nothing really seemed to happen. But then he heard it again, and  _oh fuck_ , was whatever was in his ass getting  _bigger_?

France squeezed the hand pump again, a perverse grin spreading gleefully across his face when England gasped, a half-choked  _oh god_  escaping his slightly swollen lips. Twice more, and England was arching off the bed, pulling violently at the ribbon, the bedposts creaking slightly in protest.

"Fuuuuck, oh god,  _France_ …" England moaned at another hiss of air, the plug inside him getting  _bigger_ , stretching him open, open so far, all the way, and it felt so  _good_ …the ribs rubbed at his insides at they stretched him, pushing back, so far inside and going  _farther_  with every squeeze of the pump France made, making his darkened sight swim with color and flashes of white. France continued to squeeze the hand pump, eyelids lowered, transfixed on England as he gasped and writhed at his will.

He let his free hand snake down, grasping his own length with a slight tug, matching the movement with a squeeze of the hand pump. He hissed slightly, eyelids fluttering shut for a moment before they snapped back open to watch England as he moaned, toes curling, legs spreading as far as he could get them to go with his restraints to accommodate the growing size of the toy between his legs.

He had the perfect view, from England's face framed by his legs, face half-covered by the blindfold, sweat making his tousled hair stick to his forehead, on down his abdomen, dotted red from the marks he'd made, to his cock, standing to attention, dark red and straining against the ring, pre-cum streaming from the tip. His ass was reddened and abused, flushed bright from when he had spanked him earlier, his entrance puckered darkly around the black plug, twitching and quivering around it, sucking and pushing on it as England clenched and unclenched around it.

He did not relent, matching each stroke with a squeeze on the hand pump, smearing the pre-cum down his length, moaning when he swiped his finger along his slit and tugged just right, his cries just barely drowned out by England's frenzied gasps and half choked out pleas, for more, to be filled more,  _oh god don't stop don't…_

England strained and squirmed, heat and tension curling in his abdomen to mind-blowing levels as he was stretched, more and more, the toy going deeper and  _deeper_  as it expanded, stroking farther inside than he could have ever imagined, combining with the maddening tightness around his balls and cock until it felt like he was losing his mind.

It built and built, until he couldn't stand it, he was going to explode, the toy was going to rip him wide open, and it felt so good. He was being pushed to his limits, the toy was stretching him as far as he could go, and finally he came with a scream, the ring pulling on his balls, amplifying it, and he lost it in the pure burst of pleasure.

France was watching, and when England came, he released the pressure, the air rushing out of the plug in such a sudden burst that the sensation of the retraction of the plastic sent the pleasure over the limit, and England blacked out for a moment; lost himself completely in the color swirling behind his eyelids.

France came right after with a groan, watching blue eyes deep with lust, never taking his eyes off of England even as he spurted messily into his hand. He relaxed back into the sheets as England went limp, both panting heavily as they rode the high.

They spent several minutes like that, just breathing, chests heaving as they tried to catch their breaths. Eventually France moved to sit up, setting the hand pump down to crawl up beside England, softly running a finger down his chin.

"Are you still with me,  _mon coeur_?" he whispered, lips brushing the blindfold where it ran across his temple.

England only made a small groaning noise, too exhausted to muster more. France chuckled lightly, pushing England's bangs out of his face. "Don't fall asleep yet, my dear."

This time the sound he made was irritated as he shifted slightly, the ribbon rustling, a breathy "why the hell not?" making its way through his lips, just barely loud enough for him to hear. France hummed, pressing light kisses along his jaw line, a hand running down his chest.

The hand made it down to his groin, and he sighed with relief when France slipped the cock ring off, but sucked in a breath slightly when something hot pressed against his side.

 _Oh_. That was why.

"Oh bloody hell…you're hard  _again_?" England groaned, partly in annoyance, partly because France was pulling the expanding plug out of him with a disgusting plop, leaving him feeling rather empty.

France laughed, that irritating, obnoxiously stereotypical "oh hon hon" laugh he did whenever he was either being perverted, annoying, or boasting. "What can I say? You are delectable like this,  _Angleterre_. And," he pulled on the ribbon, forcing England's legs to pull up along with his hips, England squawking in protest, "I just can't get enough."

Before he could retort, France was back between his legs, leaning over him, hands planted on either side of him. His hot mouth was back at work—kissing, nipping, and licking at his skin, teasing along his neck, collarbone, chest. He felt his cock press against his entrance—searing with heat, and moaned when France pressed himself inside, the scorching hardness a much different sensation than the toys from before.

France mimicked the sound with his own soft growl as he pressed in, noting with a sense of pride at the lack of any resistance, sliding easily inside England's undulating warmth. He pulled out a bit, nearly to the tip, and snapped his hips, pressing himself back inside with a swift thrust.

England jerked violently, knuckles knocking loudly against the headboard, choking on a gasp as France somehow managed to get just the right spot, still over-sensitized and reeling from before. He bit his lip hard to keep a control over his whimper when France did it again, but France would have none of that.

France busied his mouth by ravaging it with his own; sucking England's bitten lip into his mouth to nibble on it, swallowing his gasps and moans. England squirmed underneath him, pulling on the ribbons, wishing he could hold onto France instead. He wanted to touch, to feel, to drive France as crazy as he was driving him…

He gasped as France gripped his slowly hardening erection, stroking it in time with his thrusts, and it wasn't long before France had England writhing in his hold. "Ahhhh  _fuck_ , France…faster!"

He was only happy to oblige, grunting as he picked up his pace, his previous rhythm growing erratic as he easily slipped in and out, England clenching down on him whenever he managed to strike just the right spot, pushing him further and further into the throes of ecstasy. He was so hot and wet, slick and stretched so that he could thrust easily in and out, and France loved every second of it, every minute shift England made below him, every sound he made: every gasp, every moan, and every high-pitched keen of his name. He was driving England crazy, and that drove him crazy, too.

England came first, quietly this time, mouth curled into an "o" as he silently shook underneath him, hot cum splashing into France's hand in ribbons. France followed soon after, a half-gasp half-shout of England's name on his lips as he shot hotly inside, making England moan at the sensation.

They collapsed together, still joined, France just barely catching his upper half on his elbows so he didn't squish England beneath him, both breathing heavily, chests heaving from the effort, cheeks brushing against each other's. They stayed like that for a long while, just breathing, feeling the solid weight of the other against him. But once he had slightly caught his breath, France rolled off to the side, relaxing next to England for a moment before nuzzling his neck.

"No 'Happy Birthday' wish from my present, hmm?" he asked with a slight smirk, kissing the juncture between his shoulder and neck.

England huffed weakly, the lethargy taking hold of him in a steely grip, dragging him toward sleep. "Happy birthday, you incorrigible perverted frog."

France's lip quirked as he ran a hand lovingly through England's matted hair, leaning up to untie his bonds. Once he was free England relaxed heavily back, limbs falling to the bed with a sound thump and a sigh. France smiled as he settled down to pull the covers over both of them, pressing himself to him despite the stickiness. " _Merci, mon cher."_

England was already out like a light. It was just as well.

He always had the morning. There were still quite a few toys laying about he still wanted to try…

_La fin._

.~.~.~.~.


End file.
